


side by side

by aristotle



Category: Homecoming - Fandom, Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Genre: M/M, i... im so sorry, this is tony's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristotle/pseuds/aristotle
Summary: Llewyn Davis and Walter Cruz were two sides of the same coin.





	side by side

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely emi and tony's fault

Llewyn was silent as he used his chest to push the door to the diner open, already feeling the sudden draft of warm air envelop him as he left the dreary weather behind him. As the door closed, a familiar face greeted him, giving him a warm smile and slightly helping pat him dry of rain with a rag from behind the counter.

“Tch… darling, I told you, you’re gonna come down with something walking around like that. It’s freezing out there and you’ve got more protection for that guitar than you do on yourself.” Although Llewyn knew he was being scolded, he also knew there was never any poison in Nina’s words so much as legitimate worry. Normally he wouldn’t have really bothered to listen, but… he missed having someone care. Having someone worry, even.

“Yeah, well, when I’ve got as much money to my name as this guitar has to its price tag I’ll think about it.” He wiped himself down a bit more, looking up to his usual stool and finding it occupied by an unfamiliar man draped over his food like he was about to fall into it at a moment’s notice.

He spared him a glance, eyes tracing over the thin, grey shirt that covered his torso and clung to his protruding shoulder blades and the faded, slightly torn pants he donned just below. This man didn’t look like he was dressed to be in public, much less a rainstorm.

… Not that he could actually say much.

“Who’s the new guy?” Llewyn asks, studying the man as Nina turned to look at the patron.

“Oh, Walter… Walter something. Real quiet. Didn’t say much when he came in. Just ordered his food then sat down. Normally I would’ve sat him somewhere else, but he insisted he sit somewhere he could see the exits. Got some dogtags on him too. I’d say military.”

In reality, Llewyn was just hoping for a name, but he supposed expecting any less from the woman who had figured him and Mike out before they had was unrealistic.

“It’s fine. Just… the regular, yeah?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks.”

He sighed and sat himself beside Walter, draping his dripping coat on the seat behind him and his guitar leaning against the bar. His hair was sticking to his forehead, wet and cold, just slightly buffered by the lukewarm heat spreading throughout the diner.

“That’s, ah, my seat, you know.” Llewyn says, fidgeting in his chair and looking over the man sitting beside him. He definitely… looked military, if his size was any indication, though the deer in the headlights expression he received suddenly had him questioning the theory.

“What?” he replied softly, looking up from his food and turning towards Llewyn. He looked… pretty fucked up, if we were being honest. Worse than himself, which was saying something.

“Oh, sorry, it’s… it’s nothing, just… I usually sit there.”

“… Here…?”

“Yeah, yeah. I live around here, I just… yeah.”

“Oh.”

The conversation seemed to end there, and Llewyn fiddled with the torn ends of his gloves as he silently waited for his food. After a few minutes (though they felt much longer to him) Walter spoke again, slightly less quiet this time.

“Do you… do you want me to trade you?”

“What?”

“Seats. Do you want to trade seats.”

Llewyn tilted his head, quietly processing the proposition. “Oh, uh… no, no man, that’s fine. Y’know, it’s just a chair, I’ll be fine.”

Walter nodded, quietly turning back to his plate.

“You from around here?” Llewyn spoke before he could stop himself, prolonging the painfully unnatural conversation between the two strangers. Maybe he was coming down with something.

“Oh.” He said, almost like he was surprised the conversation wasn’t over. “… yes and no. I, uh… just moved back into town. I’ve… been gone a while.” There doesn’t seem to be any desire to expand past that, nor does Llewyn have any desire to pry further. If anyone knows what it’s like to want to leave the past behind, it’s him. “I’d ask the same to you, but… you have a seat here, so…” He ends his sentence with an awkward chuckle that Llewyn mirrors, subtly averting his gaze as he replied.

“No, yeah, I’ve been here a while too. Well… not a while, just… a long time.”

“Nice, nice.” Is all he gets back at first, and Llewyn wonders if even some forced dialogue isn’t enough to save some unwanted conversation before Walter speaks again. “Do you… work around here, or…?” He eyes his guitar as he asks, and Llewyn briefly contemplates avoiding the coming patronization when he makes a hollow attempt at explaining his livelihood.

“I’m a folk singer, actually.”

“Really? You play around here?”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s… there’s a club up north I play at occasionally.”

Walter adjusts his posture slightly, leaning closer to the singer as he continued the conversation. It was a subtle change in body language that was all but unnoticed by the oblivious man beside him, though a certain waitress had seen similar signs between Llewyn and another similarly stoic man before. She set down his food quietly, avoiding interrupting the two as she walked away with a simple pursed smile.

“I love folk music.” Is all he says at first, and though Llewyn hears the line a lot, it never feels quite like this, nor does it sound quite like that. Like there’s a genuine respect, an actual interest behind the words. “Maybe I could… maybe I could go see you play sometime.”

“You’d… yeah, yeah, if you want to. That’d be fine.”

“Good, good.”

After a moment, a hand extends to Llewyn, hard and calloused, though a different type of callous than those that Llewyn had formed from his guitar. They were hard, but still gentle, hesitant. Llewyn was curious. Caught in his grasp, so to sleep.

“I’m Walter.” He says, “Walter Cruz.”

“Llewyn Davis.”

Once they separate, they have nothing to do but eat. Silent, beside each other, accompanying one another without the need for words to join the companions.

As both men had previously discovered, those were the best kind.


End file.
